The Pipe Organ
by Antoinette88
Summary: Set two years post the 2004 movie. We all know the sad story of Erik and his life in the Opera Populaire. But, what happens to Erik’s beloved pipe organ when it is sold as a gift to a talented young musician in England?
1. Chapter 1

As usual, I do not own any form of the Phantom of the Opera… I am simply a devoted fan with a bad imagination >.>

Nor do I own Evelyn de Morgan or any of her work, but I loves her very much XD

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Summary 

Set two years post the 2004 movie (after Christine chooses Raoul over Erik); we all know the sad story of Erik and his life in the Opera Populaire. But, what happens to Erik's beloved pipe organ when it is sold and exported as a gift for a young talented musician who lives in Southern England?

* * *

It was perfect. 

Although it seemed aged past its actual years, due to damage from moisture and darkness, the pipe organ was in good condition. The monstrous structure stood grandly in the library, tucked in neatly across from the open fireplace.

Juliya de Morgan couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness as she stood back and gazed intently at it.

Looking to Jacques, who stood nearby, she waited until he gave a smile and a small nod, approving that she step up to examine the instrument and open the lid. A flourish of keys lay before her; many of them were worn down... to an incredible extent. Curved indents, which were no larger than a fingerprint, lay in what were originally flat ivory keys where they had been played the most.

She breathed in the thick dust, which no amount of cleaning could possibly resolve.

A hand suddenly appeared at her shoulder; Juliya gave a weak smile.

"I hope you enjoy it, mon cherie," Her father spoke softly in his slowly diminishing accent, sadness strong in his voice "This is the most beautiful pipe organ in Paris; I have not yet had it tuned or repaired, but I assure you, I will arrange to have it done for you as soon as possible."

Turning to Jacques to embrace him, Juliya held back tears and gave him an eager reassurance

"Oh, thank you father! It's beautiful!"

They parted and Jacques' eyes dropped, to look away from his only child "I thought this would be an appropriate time to tell you, I will be leaving for New York tomorrow. I know it is so soon after your dear mother's death, but there is much to attend to. You're a young woman now, I know you will take good care of the estate while I am gone."

"Yes, father." Juliya gave a weak smile. It worried her that Jacques had not yet grieved for the loss of his wife, a brilliant artist and beautiful woman by the name of Evelyn.

However, she did not question his decision... He was an elderly man now, and she knew he had an agenda in which there was little time left to fulfil.

Juliya leant forward and gave her father a light peck on the cheek, as a sign of respect.

Jacques turned and walked away. There were still arrangements to be made before his departure. The thought that mostly ran through his mind was that his daughter would be safe in the house alone. He dared not hire servants; Evelyn had always seen it as unnecessary and lazy to have someone else to do the housework for her.

Oh, Evelyn... The love for his wife had only grown stronger as she'd left this world. She was a hardworking woman, a talented artist; this was proof through his only daughter, who had sought to become an artist, much like her mother; not only an artist, but a musician as well.

Juliya had all of her mother's talents, and more. Her rich French complexion had come from her father, who faired from Normandy. At the age of nineteen, Juliya was a very independent young woman.

Jacques remembered a time when his daughter's talents had been finally united with her slowly emerging confidence, only a few weeks before her eleventh birthday. The song she had performed publicly for the first time, a haunting Nocturne that enchanted her audience. The music she played at her parents' dinner parties was a hit among guests.

From there, Juliya had gained a reputation for her beautiful music, in the coastal town in which she was raised.

As the young woman sat down to play her new instrument, her fingers stroked the curves in the keys lovingly as she tried to think of an appropriate tune.

Juliya sighed softly, thinking of her mother's favourite song...

Her hands seeking out the appropriate chords to begin with, she closed her eyes and began to play…

...THUD!

Juliya's piercing green eyes snapped open. Instead of the beautiful flowing music, which started the piece, there was simply a loud banging sound that emitted from the body of the pipe organ.

She closed the lid took a sharp breath, it was an old instrument after all... She would have to wait until father had it fixed.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Gods-girl2004:** :_bow: Thank you very much_

**Princess Persephone:** _Clever you . You think I could write a phanphic without the master himself? _XD

_>.>_

**I Despise Raoul:** _Three words... I love you. I am humbled by your presence in my reviews column, I love your work :grovel: Teach me your awesome ways!_

**letthedreamdescend:** :_grin: I certainly hope so, thanks!_

* * *

Erik was weak from hiding. What little food he had to survive on was now gone and the final refuge he took was no doubt a fatal choice. 

_They had returned many times, to check that he had not come back to his lair. Smashing his creations and stealing many of the smaller unnoticeable items in his home, which were of any worth._

_It had been two years since Christine abandoned him, and Erik had gone into his solitude convinced that he would soon die of a broken heart._

_But alas, the healing power of death never came to him, and the Phantom continued his days in the lair with little disturbance from the outside world._

_Out of fury, Erik had torn apart the inside of his organ a few months after the wretched Christine abandoned him... It was simply a shell now, as was he. _

_Scattered parts lay about the lair, more recognisable as part of the damage done by the mob rather than disbanded parts of a great instrument._

_The burnt shell of the Opera Populaire was finally to be torn down. No one dared rebuild the opera house; stories of it being cursed or haunted chased away those who had the money to buy the property, or fund it to be rebuilt._

_The cellars were no excuse either; the tales of the catacombs under the old opera house were feared worst. The architects were convinced that the opera house's foundations were not stable enough to have a second theatre built on top of the original, as the story of a lake at the base of the ruin was widely told. _

_They had come to investigate before the final decision was made... If there were no lake, perhaps the foundations could be salvaged for what was to be built above?_

_As the opera ghost no longer stalked the upper levels, he had no idea they would ever return to his home; Erik assumed they had no reason to._

_He no longer lit candles, there was no point for light to exist in his world now, and it only gave him pain. He no longer wore the mask either, the little blonde Giry girl who, in her innocence, had kept it._

_So, as they entered the deepest level of the abyss in which the phantom had immersed himself, Erik was forced to hide out of fear for the outside world, which had crushed him so many times in the past. _

_As light slowly crept into the lair, the sound of many sloshing footsteps echoed through the catacomb. Erik blinked; it had been a very long time since he had used his sight for anything._

_In an attempt at a quick hiding place, Erik took the last stale crusts of bread he had (mostly to keep the intruders from recognising any signs of his existence down there), and crawled into the body of the organ, closing the mesh panel behind him._

_He could not remember anything from there; it would be almost a week before he stirred again. The phantom's bodyhad almost gone into a state of hibernation, one of which he thought he would not awaken from._

...THUD!

Erik's eyes slowly opened. He was physically exhausted, weak from deprivation of both food and water. He hadn't felt this terrible since his life with the gypsies, who had starved him into submission when he first began to travel with them.

_'What was that noise?' _Erik wondered '_Were the outsiders not gone yet?'_

His unconscious state, which lasted just under a week, felt like only a few hours, and it had been only a few hours as far as he knew.

Erik would wait a while before venturing out of his hiding place; just a little while longer to be sure.

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	3. Chapter 3

**PhantomsHeart:** Have a cookie! XD

**Carkeys aka fophater1: **Thanks, I also like originality... but a good fop-beating calms my nerves too!

**letthedreamdescend:** Yay! A devoted reviewer! I feel inspired!

* * *

Juliya waved her father goodbye as he stood out on the deck of the cruise ship, looking down at her, as it slowly started to move away from the dock. She watched the ship for a while as it set off into the horizon. Climbing back into the carriage, Juliya nodded for the driver to take her home. 

Home, it just wasn't the same without her mother or father. Soon, the only child would be off to an American university to study the arts, and the de Morgan household would be empty. The house belonged to her mother's family, whom Juliya's parents inherited it from long ago. She knew that her father would not be able to bring himself to sell it, even if he did not intend on returning to the house.

As Juliya removed the shawl from around her shoulders, she glanced into the expansive hall mirror, which took up a large part of the wall between two doorways. She was never a fancy dresser; her fashion sense was not as strong as any of the other village girls. Juliya wore a simple cream-coloured corset and dress with lace bell-sleeves. Her very long, plain black hair was pulled into a bun. It was dead straight, so there wasn't much she could do with it. Oh, how Juliya had always dreamed of luscious curls but none of the attempts she made to achieve these seemed to work.

Placing the shawl neatly on the table, she touched one of the roses in the vase, which was also sharing the small table. They were left over from her mother's funeral, a simple gift from good friends of her parents as a sign of their condolences.

Juliya's thoughts wandered to the organ as she remembered the occurrences of the night before. It had been her birthday, which is why her father has bought her such an elaborate gift. But that was only one good occurrence among many bad over the past few weeks.

* * *

Continuing with her day-to-day life, Juliya painted, visited the local village and tended to her mother's garden. As evening fell,she came back to the house and reclined in the library as she usually did around that time. 

As she lit the fireplace, the organ beckoned her back to it. There was some kind of strange presence around the antique; so much character could be felt.

A gentle smile across her face, Juliya's other instrument of choice, the viola lay in its case on one of the bookshelves.

She took the bow gently in her hand, and tucked the viola under her chin in the appropriate fashion.

Her eyes closed, Juliya mused with various songs she could remember by heart. She rarely played from sheet music that seemed all too awkward for her to manage.

She could play for hours, but didn't. Instead Juliya chose out a novel from the vast library and immersed herself in it, sitting comfortably on one of the lounge chairs. The dim fire had almost extinguished itself by the time she fell asleep.

* * *

Erik's eyes blearily opened a short while after the music stopped. Groaning, he pushed away the mesh grating and crawled out of the pipe organ, his dark unwashed hair was now long, down past his shoulders and hung over his eyes. 

He stumbled through the unfamiliar room because his legs were stiff from crouching so long in the same position. Feeling his way around, he came across a bookshelf and followed it until he came to a space in the wall where there was a doorway. As Erik slipped out of the room silently, he caught gaze of the sleeping young woman, her white skin illuminated by the dim fire nearby. He could not see her features very clearly; she was dark-haired and quite young, but that was all he could tell… He did not want to linger and risk being seen.

The faint candlelight showed that the room he entered was a kitchen. As Erik crept through the room, he came across a flask of water and couldn't help but take it quickly in his hands and drink it all, abandoning the empty container on the table.

His eyes darted out into the hall as opened the next door he came to. As he crept out of the kitchen, his leg bumped something… a small table. In the silence of the night there was a crash. Shattered glass, water and flowers spilled out onto the floor.

In a panic, Erik fled quickly further down the hall, finding his way to a staircase. He discovered there were many floors to the house, and continued to climb until he reached the top floor, the attic.

As he fumbled on his knees in the strange room, Erik came across a box of matches and lit one to take a quick glance around the room. An old lamp fell into his sight and he lit it, bringing it into the centre of the room.

Sitting silently on the floor in thought, Erik examined his surroundings. There were trunks, many old paintings and mannequins of sorts. He was overwhelmed… _How did he come to be in this place in such a short time? _More importantly, _why was his pipe organ brought here? How dare someone take it from him!_

Curling up on the floor, the possibilities ran through his head. The phantom would look for answers when the time came, but for now he needed to rest and discover more about the strange house he was in…

_Was he even still in Paris?_


	4. Chapter 4

Gods-girl2004 - Oh, yes the inspiration is coming pretty quickly these days... I'll update every time I get more reviews!

Princess Persephone - Mine too, and it goes frizzy when I try to put a wave in it! I didn't know Emmy Rossum's hair was a wig! Oh noes! Well... it makes me feel better now that her hair is fake XD

I Despise Raoul - PANTY RAID! Oh no, that would be just terrible... wouldn't want that to happen now, would I? XDDD

Phantom's Heart - Oh, a week or so... He wouldn't have showered much in the past two years though either I'd imagine...

Angelus de Seraphim - >.> Is nive a word?

:checks: ...Oh.

All my reviewers get fortune cookies, cause it was my birthday on the 22nd of June and I love teh fortune cookie-ness! Yum!

* * *

Sunlight spilt through the tiny window in the attic, the beams of light shining onto Erik's face. He blinked blearily and sat up. The attic was now bright enough to see around it and the amount of dust present there also. As the phantom got to his feet and approached the window, he used the sleeve of his rags to wipe the dust away so he could peek outside. 

There was a vast landscape, which lay before him. He had not encountered such a thing for a very long time. Lush green lawn spanned out into light forest and he caught a glimpse of ocean in the distance. But, Erik's eyes could not handle the bright light, not just yet. He turned from the window and to the objects that surrounded him. Until he could figure out where he was and how to escape, this would be his home. Erik realised he would also have to allow time to get used to the light, after all his time in darkness.

A mirror, partially hidden behind a stack of old paintings taunted him from afar. It reflected his face as he looked into it, and nothing else. He had not gazed upon his reflection for a very long time. His hair was tangled, and covered most of his face. From what he could see, his skin was dark and tainted with dirt.

Erik approached the mirror and tried to push the paintings aside, but they were too heavy. One by one, he moved the paintings to another resting place. As he picked them up, Erik could not help but gaze at the oil painted designs on the canvas. They were mostly of women, stories and myths… Until he came upon a striking scene which he could not bring his eyes away from.

It was of an angel in a plain brown robe with his scythe at his side, kneeling to comfort a pleading woman.

Erik looked to the signature… Evelyn de Morgan. Checking the other paintings, he found them all by the same woman… _Was this her house that he was in, or perhaps a fan of such a style?_ Either way, the person who lived here had exquisite taste in their artwork... It was just a pity all these paintings had been locked away in the attic.

Erik turned the painting as he rested it with the others. It reminded him of how Christine had seen him as a little girl, the first time she had encountered her 'angel', a comforting hidden force who came in the wake of her father's death.

Finally, he took the mirror and covered it with a old blanket, as he would have done with all the mirrors in his lair… before he shattered them all.

* * *

Juliya yawned and stretched uncomfortably. The book she was reading had fallen to the floor, and the fire extinguished itself. She went to the kitchen and bowed before the basin, splashing water on the fair skin of her face. Juliya opened the kitchen window, and a draft came into the room and against the hallway door, which was not closed properly. It creaked in response and the handle hit the wall as the door opened to its full extent, revealing the shattered glass and spilt flowers. 

"Oh, however could this have happened?" Juliya gaped at the mess, dropping the towel she was using to dry her face.

Quickly, she picked the towel back up and used it to clean up the water. She knew instantly that her pet cat must have gotten inside somehow during the night. Winter, the name of her only pet, often found ways to get inside the house, especially without his owner's knowledge.

Juliya quickly brushed up the glass and used a second towel to soak the remaining water. She picked up the roses and found them a new home, a fresh glass of water in the kitchen.

* * *

As Erik rummaged through the attic, he came to a pile of dark fabric with a large ball of fur nestled among it, curled up neatly. A pair of green eyes opened and looked up at him, purring lovingly. 

Erik said nothing, and paused what he was doing. He had once been quite superstitious, as far as black cats went. The cat stretched, got to its feet and approached him with curiosity, finally rubbing itself on Erik's legs as it purred.

"Oh, hello…" Erik murmured. This was the first type of affection he had received in a long time. He reached down to pet the cat, and was instantly rewarded with louder purrs. The cat did not care that the phantom's fingernails were black with dirt, and overgrown.

As mysteriously as the cat had appeared, it padded over and pushed its way through the crack in the doorway and out of the room.

Erik sighed and followed the cat. In the light he could creep down the stairs and onto the second floor. There, he heard it once again. It was the haunting viola music from the night before.

Taking quick uneasy steps, Erik found that there was very little movement in the house, if any. No bustle of maids or servants… It was empty, all but that haunting music.

Recognising the staircase in which he had climbed to escape the shattered vase, Erik crept ever so quietly down the stairs, looking to the doorway that would be his eventual escape. The mess was gone, only a few small pools of water remained on the polished wooden floorboards.

He paused, as the music became louder. The door was open ever so slightly, and he peeked into the room. The sleeping creature he had seen the night before was standing with her back turned to the doorway. Her posture was evenly balanced at first glance, her back straight and her frame was quite average for a young woman. Her long hair was dead straight and fell loosely to her waist. As he watched her play, she swayed gently and rested her weight back and forth between her legs.

* * *

Juliya found her thoughts wandering to other matters as she played. She wondered if her father was safe. She also thought of her mother, whom she knew was in heaven, but prayed for silently. 

But, in her mind most of all was her muse, who had gradually disappeared from her life over the past year.

As a child, she had an incredible imagination that helped her paint and draw. Her mother always told her that the wonderful imagination that Juliya showed was a gift from her muse, who gave her the inspiration to play wonderful music. This muse was her gateway to success.

Winter pushed past Erik's legs and through the crack in the door. The cat rushed over to Juliya and brushed against her, stopping the flow of music completely.

"Oh, Winter…" Juliya fussed over her pet, picking him up. She set the viola and bow down on the old oak table that lay in the main area of the library. Taking the cat, she moved into the next room, always remembering to close the door securely behind her. This was an important habit her mother had taught her, but was often thwarted by her clever and persistent pet.

Erik's eyes fell onto his pipe organ, which was right where he remembered it to be, across from the fireplace. It looked exactly how it always did, and he wondered how it had been moved so far from the opera house, without his knowledge.

Inching into the library, Erik crept over to his organ and touched it lovingly with one hand. As he opened the lid and checked the keys, nothing had changed. Glancing over his shoulder every so often, Erik felt so uneasy knowing that in the other room, there was a complete stranger who now had taken his most precious earthly belonging away from him.

Running his fingers along the keys, Erik slipped and the very same THUD ensued when he hit a key. It was not as loud as he had remembered it when he was inside the pipe organ itself, but it forced the phantom to swiftly look for a hiding place… The woman was sure to have heard him. He ascended up a small creaky set of stairs, to the second level of the library.

Desperately, the angel found a dark corner and sunk into it. His rag of a suit was still black, despite how worn it was, and hid him perfectly in the darkness.

Juliya was startled by the noise, and jumped. Winter dropped out of her arms and ran across the floor.

She glanced at the cat, then at the doorway in which she had entered. Turning the knob gently, she peered back into the library.

The lid of the pipe organ was open, but Juliya saw nothing else that was unusual. She swung the door open and stepped through, trying to put an explanation to the strange occurrence. It could not be Winter, he had been with her all that time, and there was no possible way he could have lifted the heavy lid… He was only a cat!

Suddenly, Juliya's imagination was at work once more… _Could this pipe organ be haunted?_

'_No, that's stupid.'_ Juliya let a small laugh escape her trembling lips

"There's no ghost…" She said harshly, to comfort herself "Stop it, you're an adult… There's got to be a reason for this."

Juliya strode over to the pipe organ and dropped the lid shut, with a loud bang. This was a fine time for her muse to return, to frighten her senseless!

"Oh, why must you treat me like this?" Juliya mumbled to her invisible muse, as if it were another person beside her "Mother always said raw emotion brought out the most beautiful of art…. But with all these happenings, I find nothing… Why won't you give me something to build on? Just one chance to show the world…"

She sighed; her muse had shown no promise to her artwork either. Every time she began something, it was taken away. The inspiration just vanished, all of a sudden.

Erik drew in a sharp breath. He could hear the woman talking to someone else, but was utterly confused by this. From his point of view in the corner, he saw no one else down there. The woman spoke of a muse, of inspiration… No doubt she had the talent, but Erik knew for himself that talent was nothing without the imagination to guide it.

Winter once again entered the library, pouncing up onto the pipe organ's seat and gazing up at his owner. He mewed, and Juliya took him back into her arms, petting behind his ears.

"Come on Winter, you silly old thing, I'd better put you outside. Today Philippe comes to repair the pipe organ and I know he doesn't really like cats. Hmm, I'd better go into the village and collect Jacques' mail for him, I know he left me a list of errands to run for him somewhere around here… I really wish he would have hired at least one servant to help with the housework; whenever my inspiration comes is always the most awkward of times…" Juliya thought miserably out loud, as she strode toward the hallway door.

As the heavy door clicked shut behind her, the phantom was alone once more.

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End file.
